


Down on my knees

by Tofu_is_amazing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tofu_is_amazing/pseuds/Tofu_is_amazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam hands him a white folded piece of paper, Dean doesn’t think and he just takes it. Sam is smiling at him, walking slowly towards him and Dean takes instinctively a few steps back.<br/>“Read”, Sam says quietly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down on my knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [innerglow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerglow/gifts).



When Sam hands him a white folded piece of paper, Dean doesn't think and he just takes it. Sam is smiling at him, walking slowly towards him and Dean takes instinctively a few steps back. There are crinkles waiting to pop out from the corners of Sam's eyes, and his dimples frame lovingly his mouth. Moments like this make Dean wonder how he ever thought he could love anyone but his brother. There's a delicacy in the way Sam moves effortlessly across the room, the way his body never seems out of place anywhere. Dean thinks it's because of the light Sam seems to carry around. Not that he would ever say that out loud.  
The back of his knees hit the foot of the bed and he sits down on it, the mattress dipping under his weight. Another delicacy, how they share the same bed, how they breathe in unison in the dark, how they find grace in the darkest hours of the night. He can't stop staring at his brother, the way his skin wears the light, the sunflowers bottled up in his eyes, the mole right beside his nose. The silver ring around his finger. Dean keeps glancing at it, and it's been weeks since he wordlessly switched it from his finger to Sam's, weeks since Sam silently recognized the gesture for what it was, but it still makes his stomach twist and his heart beat faster in his chest. It's a simple ring, but it's speaks volume. Us. 

“Read”, Sam says quietly as he looks down at his brother, and it sends shivers down Dean's spine. There's gentleness and adoration in Sam's eyes, something Dean never really understood. How could Sam look at him like that, like he was the first ray of sunshine after a rainy day. Dean looks at himself in the mirror and he sees the lives he's taken, the mistakes he's made. He never sees what Sam does. But perhaps it's the most powerful thing they share, their ability to see in the other what they can't see in themselves. Courage, devotion, bravery, innocence.

Dean doesn't know what is happening, only guesses from the glint in Sam's eyes that what he holds in his hand might be worth more than chests full of gold. He feels the gaze of his brother burning through his skin as he carefully unfolds the piece of paper. He recognizes Sam's neat handwriting right away, but not the words. He's used to seeing Sam's notes on autopsy reports and newspapers articles, scribbles like “check the lore”, “call Bobby about the sigil” or “curse?”. What he sees there, right in front of his eyes, dark ink standing out on the white paper, it's... different. The words lay on the page, ready for him to claim them, and he suddenly feels nervous.  
You pulled me out of-

“Out loud”. Sam's voice is still quiet but has Dean's head snapping back up to meet his brother's eyes, and what he sees there scares him. There's hope and trust and confidence there, but also something dark and hooded. Not bad, but guarded. It's carefully hidden but Dean sees it anyway, just like he always sees everything when it comes to his brother. It's love. Right there, a love so hungry it makes Sam's eyes shine and his teeth bite into his bottom lip. Sam's nervous, Dean realizes, and it terrifies him. But Sam asked, so Dean does what he will always does when Sam asks something of him, he obliges. He looks down at the letter he holds in his hands, and has to clear his throat before he speaks. His mouth feels dry but his voice fills the air in the room, small notes forming the song Sam wrote. And as the words bounce against the walls and come back in his ears, comprehension dawns on Dean. 

“You pulled me out of the flames and held me close when I thought the fire would swallow me whole. You cast the heat away, and the first time I felt rain fall on my face, I was in your arms. Smoke filled the air, but it was too late. You lighted a different kind of fire in my chest. I didn't realize it at first, so sure it was the dying embers of our childhood. I thought it was the smoke that made my eyes water, sparkles that made my cheeks burn. I used to think I was made of broken pieces of glass. A jigsaw puzzle sharp enough to make anyone who dared to come too close bleed. And I was looking at you like you held all the pieces in your palms.”

In front of him, Sam silently sinks to his knees, making Dean stop reading and stare with wide eyes at him. He wants to ask, wants to know what he is reading right now. But hos own words get stuck in his throat, the weight of Sam's pushing them back down and he has to swallow them all. They drip down his throat, sweet like honey, and settle in his stomach. That's when he realizes he is hungry. Sam nudges Dean's legs apart with his hands, never taking his eyes off of Dean. His hands rubs the denim of Dean's jean against his legs, the touch innocent and yet full of promises. He doesn't say anything, just takes a quick look at the paper Dean is still holding and slightly raises his eyebrows. 

Dean clears his throat again, Sam's words echoing in his head and their weight is almost too much. They're sticky and he wants to brush them out of his hair, to get them off his skin. They tickle his ribs and tie ribbons of black ink around his heart. And yet he barely read a paragraph. His hands are already shaking. They don't usually do this. Dean doesn't trust his heart and his tongue when it comes to his own emotions. It always feels like waiting for a miracle whenever he tries to put into words what he feels. It never sounds right, and when it does, he feels vulnerable. Sam is better at this than him, always has been. As a kid, it used to petrify Dean, how easily Sam could say terrifying words like “I love you De”. It also made him jealous, because he never knew how to act like that. Sam was a small child, but nothing was too big for him. And what Dean is reading now, it's another proof that things didn't change, if he needed any.

“I tried to be just like you, tried to have some of your light shine on me.”

Sam's fingers lightly trail along the waistband of Dean's jeans, making goosebumps run over his arms, before they pop the button open. He lowers his head and Dean hears his own voice falter as he feels Sam's breath against the fabric of his jeans. 

“But it was not worship. Sam what are you-”

“Keep reading”, Sam mutters as he noses Dean's crotch. He kisses the damp cotton of Dean's underwear, taking deep breaths that let Dean knows he's been scented, and Dean feels arousal pooling in his stomach and twisting his insides. Sam is so beautiful like this, brown hair falling in his face and a light flush spreading on his cheeks, Dean almost wants to discard the paper and just touch his brother's cheeks. Just trace the outline of Sam's jaw with his thumb and feel everything Sam ever was and ever will be just beneath the tip of his fingers. He wants to be closer, wants to map Sam's skin with his lips and discover new roads on his body. He can feel his mouth water, and Sam chuckles between his legs, as if he can read Dean's thoughts. At this point, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he could.

“Dean, read.”

It feels like treason, but Dean takes his eyes away from Sam and goes back to the letter, the words dancing in front of his eyes and he knows, just knows that right now might be the most important moment of his life. He starts reading again, and the words echo in the room and in his chest. He's not sure his heart is beating anymore.

“It was Faith.”

Sam's teeth bite into Dean's zipper and carefully bring it down.

“I believe in you, even when you don't.”

Dean is half hard in his boxer briefs and he gasps audibly when he feels Sam's finger slipping between his waistband and his hipbones. His skin is burning hot already and Sam's fingers are almost cold. This must be what it feels like to be alive. 

“I will hold your hands in mine when you feel the need to curl them into fists.”

In one swift movement, Sam pulls the underwear down and takes Dean's already half hard cock out. The touch of his fingers is burning and has Dean's hips jerking forward, but he knows what is happening, knows that these words are Sam's heart on a plate, each letter an invisible silver ring put around Dean's finger to make up for the absence of the one he gave to Sam. He swallows audibly, torn between the urge to read the letter and to look at Sam, to absorb the words and to send them back against Sam's lips. He curses God for only giving him two eyes. But he keeps reading, even when Sam's hand curl around the base of his cock and starts stroking. 

“I will stitch up your wounds and kiss your scars, until they take the shape of my mouth. I will leave heart-shaped bruises on your sorrows. I will walk by your side and make our shadows melt together.” 

Sam is stroking him slowly, gathering precome with his thumb on every upstroke and using it to smooth his way down, and Dean is flushed, fighting to keep his eyes open, the sensation of Sam's hand around him and Sam's words on his tongue making him pant and curse under his breath. Of course, if Sam had to make a declaration, he would do it this way. It's how it's always been between them, holy and profane colliding, grace in their chests and sins on their shoulders. It's who they are. And it's never been as true as it is now, with Sam on his knees between his brother's legs.  
He brings his head closer to Dean's cock, his tongue tracing tentatively the vein on the underside of it, before he drops a feather light kiss on the tip, and Dean feels himself getting fully hard. His heart is hammering in his chest, because of what he's reading or because of what Sam's doing he is not sure. But he has to keep going, doesn't dare to stop, not now, not when Sam is wrapping his lips around the head of his cock and slowly, painfully slowly, brings Dean's cock into his mouth.

“I will make you forget heartbeats don't come in pairs.”

Dean moans when he feels heat surrounding his cock, Sam's mouth feeling like Heaven and Hell all at once. One of his hand leaves the paper to come hold Sam's head right there, right where he is. He doesn't realize he has closed his eyes and tipped his head back until Sam hums around him, forcing him to look back down at his brother, who sends glances to the letter Dean is gripping tightly in his hand. He's not moving and Dean can hear the silent command. Read. 

When he brings the letter back in front of his eyes, Sam takes more of him in his mouth, starting to bob his head up and down, painfully slowly. His tongue swirls around the tip of Dean's cock everytime his head goes up, and he hollows his cheeks every time he sinks down again. Dean starts to shake and feels his skin lighting itself on fire. Sam's tongue traces sinful lines on the underside of his cock, and with each movement, Dean's cock slides against Sam's cheek. Dean is not sure he can understand what he's seeing on the paper, but he does what Sam says, he licks his lips and starts to read again.

“This is my pledge to you. Vow yourself to me like I vow myself to you. I dream about the back of your knees, and I lick blood from my bottom lip when I think about yours. Look at me like I look at you. Do you see me?”

Dean glances at Sam, who looks back and manages a smile through half lidded eyes, hollowing his cheeks on the way up and making Dean groan. Yes, Dean thinks. I see you. 

“I am here, in front of you. Read my words and let them sink beneath your skin like I sink on my knees in front of you.” 

Dean's breath catches on each word as Sam keeps taking him deeper and deeper, swallowing around him until Dean can feel his cock hitting the back of Sam's throat. He knows Sam is barely breathing and he can't help it, he moves the hand that was in Sam's hair down the side of Sam's face and he drips precome down his brother's throat as soon as his fingers can feel his cock beneath the thin skin of Sam's cheeks. There are no words for this, and he bets even Sam couldn't find one either. His thighs starts to shake, muscles tensed and Sam keeps holding him down, slender fingers tracing patterns on Dean's hips, maybe it's words, maybe it's just random lines, Dean can't focus enough to tell. His senses are assaulted, and it's too much, too much. His heart is racing, the weight of Sam's words and the weight of Sam's hands making his entire body tremble. Electricity courses through his veins and he knows that this is it, the one moment that makes everything that will ever happen after this, irrelevant.  
He brings Sam's vows back again in front of his eyes, and his voice is wrecked when he starts reading again. But he has to do it.

“This is my prayer, this is my promise. Can you feel it?”

On the last syllable, Sam goes deeper, and Dean can feel his brother's throat around him. His balls tighten and he's sure he's gonna come, right here right now because Sam is deep throating him and there's nothing Dean can do but take shallow breaths and calling his brother's name. 

“Sam, I'm gonna- fuck, Sam, Sam”

But Sam withdraws and uses one of his hand to circle the base of Dean's cock, starving his brother's orgasm off and making Dean gasps in what sounds like he's on the verge of physical pain. His cock is an angry red, shiny with spit and precome. He imagines fucking Sam's mouth. He imagines coming all over his brother's face. The thought of white drops of come clinging to Sam's eyelashes has him bite his own tongue. Sam gathers precome on his finger, that he makes a show of licking. Dean can't take his eyes away, can't do anything but stare at Sam. His eyes follow the movement of Sam's Adam's apple when he swallows, and this is the most obscene thing he's ever seen. Also the most beautiful. Sam hums appreciatively, and his voice is raw when he speaks. 

“You don't get to come until you're done, Dean. You have to read it all.”

He sounds as aroused as Dean is, and when he glances at Sam's crotch, Dean sees the bulge tenting the front of his sweat pants. Sam is getting off on this as much as he is, and it drives Dean crazy. The letter is crumpled in his closed fist, and Dean unfolds it carefully, feeling the paper wet with how damp his fingers are now. But there are a few lines left to read, so he blinks a few times, focuses enough to have the words stop dancing in front of his eyes, and he starts speaking again.

“You're my brother. I will always find my way back to you. Yours is the only name I could call out. The first word I learned. I do not know how to hold anything but you. You're every single cell in my body, every single flower grown out of my skin.”

Sam opens his mouth again, slowly sinking down on Dean's cock, bobbing his head up and down faster now that Dean is reaching the end of his letter.

“I give you this. Me, all of me. Who I was, who I am, who I will be. It's yours.”

Sam is hollowing his cheeks and on each upstroke he grazes his teeth on the head of Dean's cock. 

“My words, my heart, my body. Let us be a moment, this moment, now. Let us be now forever.”

Dean keeps glancing at Sam and finds his brother staring back at him. There are a million more words in his Sam's eyes, but Dean doesn't need to hear them. He already knows. The muscles of his stomach tense and his balls tighten again. He's not going to be able to stop himself this time. There are only a few more lines on Sam's letter, but Dean doesn't want to rush though this. This is Sam, this is them. So he reads each word with the same strength, his voice shaking, while sweat is pooling in the hollow of his throat. He's gasping between each sentences but he will read it all. 

“I want you to let me love you forever. I want it to be terrifying and raw. I want to die mid-kiss when we are too old to stand upright without holding on to each other. This is how it all started, and this is how it will end. With fire coursing through my veins. Please, let me scorch everything that defines you, and let us burn, together this time.”

Sam's finally closes his eyes, sinking all the way down to the base of Dean's cock and Dean almost screams, pleasure making everything blurry. He's gonna come. He can barely see the last words Sam wrote but it doesn't matter, because as soon as he recognizes them, he lets the letter go. The paper slips from between his fingers and his voice breaks as he answers Sam's last words. 

“I love you too.”

The letter falls to the floor, and everything goes black.


End file.
